


thornheart

by kemonomimi



Category: Guild Wars
Genre: Heart of Thorns, M/M, Rough Body Play, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 05:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5955181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kemonomimi/pseuds/kemonomimi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>they call to one another like siren songs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. dalliance

A moment stolen out of sight; two sets of hands, one raking and clawing and pushing and carressing, the other pulling and scratching and tearing. One lifts the other, parting legs and pressing inbetween them using the pressure to keep the other upright against the wall. Lithe legs squeeze around hips, fingertips dig into shoulderblades; lips meet, carnal kisses and poisonous whispers are exchanged. Sometimes, when they’re like this, Narcysst wants to smother Llygr on his lips, make him breathe only his air. He knows his inclinations are reciprocated, because sometimes Llygr holds him so tightly that it feels like they could melt into one another, become the same being.

But he’s not thinking about anything right now, except for the teeth against his throat. With a tilt of his head the small sylvari bares more of it, stretches sinews and beckons his lover to sample and partake of the curve of his neck. He appreciates the attention, the sharp nips and the coyingly sweet affections that go hand in hand. He needs not offer encouragement; Llygr does as he wants without hints and commands, in most cases. There is very little Narcysst would deem unacceptable anyway when he’s intoxicated by desire. 

They call to one another like siren songs; it is hard to comprehend that not so long ago they were alone, unconnected, when now they are primary motivating factors for one another -- for better or for worse. It is a sensation Narcysst never expected with which to be settled; dearhearts were for the sniveling Dreamers. Proper care of his ego does not allow another sentient being in his space, he thinks. But yet he found a match in blood, painted in the same palette as he, a “follower” of the jungle dragon; his thornheart, a name he devised with three parts mockery, one part twisted affection. Narc deemed him an appropriate companion, so to bestow a title seems fit. 

A particularly harsh bite causes him to toss his head back haughtily, narrowed, feline-esque amber eyes glancing to the side at the face of his lover, illuminated by his own haunting glow that spoke of the hour of night. Insolent git, he thinks, curved fingertips stroking underneath carmine eyes with some semblence of affection. His thumb pressed over the curve of his cheek, following the shape of it to Llygr’s jawline. A pretty face, though not as pretty as his; pleasant enough in its own right. Narcysst didn’t mind waking up beside him.


	2. involvement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> modresnuggles

The tension was taut, and then came the awaited snap. Pleasure was derived, almost more consequential in its mutual timing than planned, and savored until it was just a trickle and the ache started to set in. Narcysst stayed where he concluded in Llygr’s lap, his cheek rested on the curve of the other Sylvari’s chest lazily. He could feel the trickle of sap, feel the slide of his lifeblood over the slender curve of his shoulder; Llygr had been particularly savage with his _lovebites_ this evening, especially that last bite that had accompanied the sharp climax of his partner. Not that he minded of course; had he not encouraged it with saccharine whispers and wanton moans and nails scraping over the glowing slope of Lly’s back and had he disliked the harsh attention, he would have taught his bedmate a lesson with the sharpest side of his daggers. 

The aftermath of sex always left him purring -- not quite literally, but certainly a little more prone to allowing close contact to continue. Llygr made a good pillow -- certainly better the ones the Sylvari in question had tucked behind him. A shift allowed him to lie more comfortable against the taller of the two, against his side where he fit perfectly between the edge of the cot and its other inhabitant.

“My little terror is being affectionate.” The self-satisfied husky burr was probably intended to be off-putting, but Narc paid his tone little mind.

“Watch your tongue. I’ll find another’s bed to occupy.” The growl and the arms like corded rope that curl around him -- a mockery of a lover’s embrace, Narc thinks with a sardonic snort -- were the responses for which he was looking, as is the flick of tongue against the wound on his neck the dabs away the last bit of his blood. 

Narcysst closed his eyes, allowed his breathing to slow. He could feel the sudden spike in tension, in the atmosphere that moments ago was calm after the proverbial storm. He can feel it in Llygr’s reverent strokes over his sides, through his hair; there’s the instincts to kill and tear and destroy while Narc is vulnerable -- and the possessive urges that war with the predator in moments like this where mine mine mine all mine seems to be what consumes the other’s thoughts. There’s a haughty pride that wells up in his chest, that he has this power and this control.

It makes him shift a little closer, stark against his lover, and finally give in to the sleep that pulls him in and encompasses him.


End file.
